


My Fair Pataki

by stagetrinity



Category: Hey Arnold!
Genre: Blogging, F/M, Friendship, My Fair Lady - Freeform, Romance, Theatre
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2018-10-23 17:36:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10724034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stagetrinity/pseuds/stagetrinity
Summary: Arnold volunteers to Stage Manager the school play "My Fair Lady" in order to get an extra activity for college apps. However, working under Helga as acting director isn't the best job one could ask for. But Arnold has an escape - his online IM partner. But when he discovers the blogs owner, adjusting to what he sees against what he reads can be hard. Which version to believe?





	1. Meet Eliza

**Author's Note:**

> A repost of a story I've been working on for FF.net. I had taken a long hiatus, but I started back on it again and decided to move it over here as well. Enjoy enjoy!

"I recommend an elective. Colleges like to see that you are interested in extracurricular activities. Any sort of club you might be interested in?"

I blinked, scanning the list that Mrs. Anderson had placed on the desk in front of me. I wasn't really interested in extracurricular activities to be honest, but with senior year rolling in strong, it had finally occurred to me that maybe I should boost my chances of college acceptance by delving into one of the groups on campus. Isn't that what they always said? Colleges like extracurricular activities, of which I currently had an outstanding zero of.

Of course senior year was probably the worst year to decide to do this….all my classmates had settled in and found their niche spots and I'd just be crawling in and hanging out in the shadows. I should have started caring about my college goals earlier, but with work and keeping up the boarding house, I just hadn't. I still had no idea what I even wanted to do with my life yet!

"How about drama club? Now don't look like that," she quickly explained, and I tried to pull my eyebrows down from the space they were floating in. "They're just starting work on the semester musical, and they're actually in need of a Stage Manager. Melissa had to drop out due to…unforeseen circumstances. Stage Managing involves leadership responsibilities, which would be wonderful to list. Colleges like leaders."  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"…and that's how I found myself down here, offering myself up as Stage Manager," I finished lamely, releasing all the pent up breath I had been holding. Mr. Simmons smiled up at me warmly, making me wonder why I'd ever been nervous in the first place. He'd moved up into high school last year, and had fit in wonderfully with the literature and drama students – most of which he'd watched grow in elementary school.

"Well of course, Arnold!" he gushed. "What with Melissa having to drop out so soon and this show being a particularly large cast and heavy with set, I just know you'll be able to keep this group on track." I grinned, feeling a weight life. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad!

"But as I'm sure they told you, it's tradition to let one of my senior students act as my Director while I offer input and help where needed. So you'll be working very closely with Helga-"

My stomach dropped immediately. I could see Mr. Simmons's mouth moving as he gestured to different students milling around the theatre, but nothing was clicking with me. I'd be working with Helga. Miss Punch-you-for –so-much-as-walking-next-to-her. Miss Don't-even-so-much-as-breathe-on-me. It was going to be a long fourteen weeks…

"..and if you'll just go through the door over there, you can find Helga backstage. She's with the rest of stage crew, and auditions will be in two weeks. In the meantime, we all need to focus on getting set together along with costumes and all that. Won't it be fun?"

He looked so excited I couldn't help by force myself to smile. "Sounds….great. Just great. Can't wait."

I shrugged my backpack back up onto my arm from where it had started to creep down into the crook of my elbow. Okay, so maybe she wouldn't be that bad. Maybe this would go smoothly. I tugged at the fraying ends of my shirt, walking in the direction Mr. Simmons's had directed. I could hear her grating voice before I even pushed the door open.

"We're doing "My Fair Lady," get it? It's been decided and I don't care if you think it's too old fashioned. I happen to think it's awesome!" she was explaining, proudly tossing her head back as she brought her hand to her chest. She'd always had a flair for dramatics ever since she'd done "Annie" back in middle school. I sighed, trying to creep forward without drawing a whole bunch of attention to myself.

"Question!" I could see Sheena raising her hand from her position in the middle of the semi-circle. "Who's going to replace Melissa?"

"I'm not sure who is gonna replace her, but we'll worry more about that-"

"Actually, that would be me," I piped up, tiptoeing out from behind Helga. I gave a small wave to the group, and I could practically feel Helga's shocked gaze boring a hole in my side. Just keep smiling, I reminded myself.

"You?" She barked out a laugh, tossing a blond pigtail over her shoulder as she looked me over. "Seriously football head, you wander into the wrong room?"

"Nope," I quipped, trying to sound more chipper and less like the bearer of bad news. "I've already confirmed with Mr. Simmons. I'm a natural leader and I'm great with construction," I explained, using the same speech I'd rehearsed earlier. "I think I could be really helpful to you guys and I want this to be the best show it can be."

I watched as many of the skeptical faces I didn't know shifted into ones of begrudging acceptance. Those I did know, like Sheena and Eugene, where quick to give me thumbs up and words of encouragement.

"You'll do wonderful," Eugene gushed, grinning ecstatically. "You've always been so good with this sort of thing."

"Yeah yeah, Arnoldo here is just mister freaking perfect sunshine. Can we get back to work?" Helga snapped, waving the clipboard she was holding. She shot a dark look at Eugene, effectively quieting him.

"Should...I sit down? Okay, I'll just – excuse me- here is fine," I muttered, squeezing into a vacant seat in the semi-circle between Sheena and a small green eyed girl with curly brown hair. She gave me a nervous smile, which I returned.

"Our budget really isn't that wonderful at the moment, so we need to brainstorm a few fundraising ideas to roll out over the next month. We want to start actually getting set up as soon as possible, and once we cast we need to know what we have available for costuming. Who's got suggestions?"

"Bake sale!" "Can we do shirts?" "How about a pie fundraiser?"

The shouting stopped as everyone turned to face the young girl next to me. She shrugged. "You know, where you set a certain limit and if you raise enough you get to pie someone in the face?"

"I think we'll stick to the bake sale, but we'll keep that in mind, thanks Shelley." Helga's tone was acidic as she scribbled down notes. "Everyone has their respective tasks assigned, so we'll meet back on Wednesday and have Mr. Simmons give final approval before we get started. Later guys."

Everyone nodded, and a dull chatter erupted as everyone gathered their materials and exited the room, talking in excited tones about the upcoming weeks. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, watching as Helga began to put away chairs. "Here, let me help you," I offered, quickly gathering up the remaining folding chairs and stashing them against the wall where others were resting.

"What're you even doing here?"

"Helping put up chairs?" I offered, confused. I bit back a yelp as I wedged my finger between two chairs.

"No, in drama club. You've never showed any interest whatsoever –"

"Well there was that time in fourth grade-"

"Oh please, Mr. Simmons begged you. Did he beg you this time too? I could have handled it on my own," she banged her chairs down against the wall before turning to study my face. I instinctively scratched my nose and dropped my gaze to the floor.

"No, and I'm sure you would have been just fine. I just dropped by to see our adviser and asked about extracurricular activities. She suggested drama might be a good fit and that you guys were short a stage manager. So I thought I might be useful."

There was silence as we both gathered out respective bags, not making eye contact. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to say anything else, and I was surprised as she grabbed my hand and scribbled a string of numbers down.

"I'm directing, which means you're pretty much my bitchboy. Shoot me a text, and I'll add you to my text group for stage crew." I nodded meekly, and she gave me a two figure salute before clicking off the lights and leaving me in the dark.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Drama? Seriously?" I rolled my eyes as Gerald gave me an appalled look.

"Seriously." I shrugged, clicking off the Skype screen and pulling up my tumblr screen. "Actually to say Stage Manager on an application sounds better than just saying random drama nobody," I countered.

"Well what do you even get to do? When's practice?"

"Apparently it's defined as 'bitchboy', but I don't know. It's Monday, Wednesday , Friday. 4-6." I pulled up another screen, typing 'stage manager' into the search bar. "Stage management is the practice of organizing and coordinating a theatrical production. It encompasses a variety of activities, including organizing the production and coordinating communications between various personnel, example between director and backstage crew, or actors and production management," I read aloud.

"So yeah, Helga's bitchboy."

I groaned. "Pretty much. Maybe she's gotten better since freshman year."

"Or maybe she got worse," he offered, grinning.

I frowned. "You're no help at all, did you know that?"

He continued to grin widely, and we settled into respective silence.

"Hey, I'm gonna go work on some of this stupid math. I'll hit you up after and we can get some donuts or something? I have to bribe myself.'"

"Sure thing," I laughed, and he exited off Skype. I clicked back to the tumblr tab and scrolled down to see if 'hells-and-bells' had updated recently. 'hells-and-bells' was a rather popular blogger who posted lots of personal poetry as well as musings from her high school. She was pretty funny, and we'd actually began to IM regularly on yahoo after I'd finally mustered up the courage to message her a few months back. I sort of had developed a tiny crush on her- well, what I knew of her- and I had a somewhat guilty pleasure of blog stalking.

It didn't take long for me to find where she had posted recently, and I grinned to see where she had tagged me. I quickly reblogged and added my own little clever note. I continued to scroll when a second later my messenger pinged.

_Hells-and-bells: Shouldn't you be studying?_

_Lordofthespies: Shouldn't you be less nosey?_

_Hells-and-bells: Touché._

_Hells-and-bells: So what's the deal, pickle?_

_Lordofthespies: Besides your awful jokes, very little. Joined a club today!_

_Hells-and-bells: Where you not in one before?_

_Lordofthespies: No. Just hadn't really had time to yet. But new year, new stuff._

_Hells-and-bells: Very good philosophy, I have taught you well, oh young one._

_Hells-and-bells: Hey….you're a guy, right?_

_Lordofthespies: As far as I'm aware._

_Hells-and-bells: Can I ask you a relationship question?_

I cringed. There was a guy I knew she liked. She posted about him sporadically, but from what I could tell he didn't even pay her any attention. But I was going to be a good friend, and it wasn't like we'd ever become anything. I didn't even know her real name or where she lived. So I took a deep breath and sent back, 'Fire away.'

_Hells-and-bells: So that guy I sort of kinda maybe have a thing for is working with me now._

_Lordofthespies: Oh, really? And?_

_Hells-and-bells: I don't think he really wants to work with me…which I can't blame him. But close proximity for weeks on end…Should I get my hopes up?_

_Lordofthespies: You're fabulous. He'd be crazy to not like you._

_Hells-and-bells: ….if you weren't just a person from the internet, this is where I'd hug you._

"If only," I sighed, signing off as I trudged off to do my own homework. If only.


	2. Set for Scene One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little setting the scene here!

"You'll be in charge of making sure stage crew stays on task. You have to relay messages and make sure there is no miscommunication on what needs to be done. Always be on time, and being early is always preferred. Keep on track of who is here and when someone can't make it. Make sure everything goes super smoothly," Helga continued, ticking of each item on her fingers while simultaneously trying to devour what was left of a small bag of beef jerky she had produced before beginning her list. I just nodded and tried to ignore how hungry I was, hastily jotting down notes as fast as I could. There was a whole lot of stuff to get up with. My head was already spinning from all the information, and it was only my second rehearsal.

"Okay, got it," I responded, adding a final defiant period to the end of the long list. "I'll do my best!" As I ran my eyes over the list once more, I felt a small tangle of nervousness in the pit of my stomach. It wasn't like I was capable of this or anything. After all, I had been student president – in 6th grade. I was good at keeping people on task.

"You had better. I mean, this show has got to run smoothly," she reiterated as she flipped through the giant binder balanced in her lap, occasionally jotting down notes in the margins. Her ability to multi-task was something to behold, seriously. I was having trouble just making sure my writing was legible as I tried to keep up. She didn't say anything else, so I tried to assume a relaxed position in the folding chair I was perched on. My legs were too long to sit comfortable in the metal contraption, but I found that I stretched them out in front of me as I slumped down, it wasn't as bad. Drumming my fingers on my pants leg, I peered over again to look at her jotting notes. She seemed to have completely forgotten I was even here. Which didn't matter much to me at the moment, as we didn't officially start our meeting for another ten minutes and the rest of crew hadn't even shown up yet. Well, okay, so Eugene had – but he was practicing a few dance steps out on stage for audition and had forbidden me to watch. Something about unfair bias when I came time to audition. I had asked him why he was on stage crew if he planned to audition, and he'd just given me a shrug and a wide smile, saying, "It's always nice to have a back-up. I'd love to be in the show, but in case someone comes along and has a better audition, I can still be involved." I had to admit, I admired his dedication and outlook on the situation.

I fished my battered phone from my pocket to distract me from the slow gnawing in my stomach, brushing some lint from the cracked screen and opening up my tumblr tab to do my daily update stalking. I brightened as I spotted a tiny blurb from hells-and-bells, and began to scan eagerly.

"What're you so intent on over there?" I jumped, my fingers fumbling to keep a hold on the phone yet still shield it as Helga leaned over with a curious look on her face. "Are you blogging? You have a blog? Let me see!" She reached across my lap, and I instinctively jerked the phone away from her wriggling fingers. I could feel the heat in my ears as she grinned. "Aww, little Arnoldo afraid I might see him blog? What, do you post porn?"

"No!" I cried incredulously, faking calmness as I slid the phone back into my pocket. "I just like to read other people's post. I don't really…post much."

"Wat's your url?"

I blanched, shaking my head. I didn't want her to know my url. She didn't need more material to harass me with. "Um, oh hey look, Sheena!" I blurted, waving enthusiastically as she and a few others began to fill into the room and migrated to their seats. "Whoa, hey, look at that! It's time to start!"

I breathed a sigh of relief as Helga switched into business mode, her focus now shifted elsewhere. I was going to have to be a bit more careful. I closed the browser and tucked the phone back into my back pocket. 'Alright, might as well get this over with' I sighed, setting out more chairs as people filed in.

A couple of hours later and I was eagerly perched in a booth at "Henry's Hamburger House" , which was really no more than a tiny shoebox of a place that specialized in cheap hamburgers that I would easily sell my left kidney for. They were really that delicious. I slid down in my booth, propping my legs up on the seat and shrugging out of my plaid over shirt, feeling the sweat starting to collect as the mixed heat from outside and the grill inside swirled around me. I pulled my phone back out and reopened my tab, and finished skimming her post from earlier. It wasn't anything, really. Just her excitement over some new projects coming up, but it made me feel good to know she was pleased. I started to send a message asking about her projects when I felt the table jostle aggressively. I instinctively reached out to right its wobbles, catching my breath as I saw Helga slide in across from me. Oh come on, we'd just spent the last two hours together. I just wanted to eat in peace and focus on anything other than that play right now.

"Fancy seeing you out here. I assumed you'd be out helping old ladies cross the road," she quipped, slipping one of the laminated menus from behind the napkin holder. "A bit hot for you?"Her eyes skimmed over my arms. I felt heat in my face as I jerked my over shirt back on, the bagginess like a security blanket against my lankiness.

"What brings you here? I figured you'd be still at the school?" Or drowning kittens. I rolled my eyes up to scan anywhere but her, taking a sip of my coke.

"I'm here for food. I'm starved. The beef jerky was not enough, and I figured I could spare a few extra bucks for my health." She grinned at her halfway joke as she gestured to the waitress to come over.

"Same. I missed lunch to work on some extra credit," I explained, trying to shrug nonchalantly. I was actually not doing so hot in my AP Literature course – I'm not so good wit analyzing poetry. Go figure.

"You? Extra credit? Well you are Mr. Teacher's Pet."

"I'm not a teacher's pet!"

She snorted as she ordered a coke of her own. "Sure you're not. Teacher's pet."

I pressed my lips together, trying to suppress my anger. She could have eaten anywhere else. Just my luck she picked here. Luckily my food arrived and I was glad for the distraction from food.

"So how's it going for you on the romance department?" she asked casually, chewing on her fingernail as she directed her attention out the window.

I almost choked, and I had to spend a brief moment wheezing before I could squeeze out an "Excuse me?"

"You know, the ladies. Who is catching you fancy? What's the 411?"

"Are you being serious?" I asked before taking a gulp of coke. She had to be joking. We weren't really even friends – this wasn't something I really felt discussing with her. Saying you're in an online relationship that's not really a relationship doesn't make a regular friend clap with joy; it certainly wouldn't benefit to tell that to someone you don't really spend time with.

She looked a little offended at my tone, but shrugged. "Sure, why not? Isn't that what teens talk about? Who they're getting with?"

"Is that what you and Phoebe talk about?" I blurted. I took a large bite to keep me from saying anything that might sound stupid.

Helga looked thoughtful, twisting some of her hair on her finger. "Not really. I'm not with anybody." I had to keep myself from muttering 'big shocker'. "She's not really with anyone either, what with all her dual enrollment and other AP courses… So naah, not really. Not so much anymore."

"So why would you ask me?" I tried to ask without seeming rude.

She shrugged. "So I'm just taking this as you're a single man on the prowl," she responded with a laugh. She moved her arms as her food was slid onto the table.

"There's just this girl I sort of have a thing for," I word vomited, and she peered at me with a curious look. "Well I mean, it's not like it would ever work out. It's just –I…I gotta go," I muttered, cramming the last of my burger into my mouth and jumping up. I fumbled my backpack on, trying to avoid making eye contact as I passed a bill to the cashier. I told her to keep the change, eager to leave.

I sighed as I stepped outside, grateful for the breeze. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before setting off back to the boarding house. Why did she have to come off as so aggressive? She left me nervous and frazzled, usually, from her sheer force of nature. Someone should train her in the art or womanhood. I laughed at my own joke as I realized how much Helga did remind me of Eliza Doolittle, with her loud voice and strong will. I could definitely see it. I shook my head, turning the corner and popping in my headphones. Might as well get acquainted with the soundtrack now.

_Lordofthespies: I'm not really sure what you're getting at?_

_Hells-and-bells: I suck at flirting. I cannot do it – I can write story upon story with romantic scenes. I can writ cute quips, eyelash flutters… moments when they meet and hang out effortlessly. But I cannot…for the life of me… do it in real life._

_Lordofthespies: Bad day?_

_Hells-and-bells: I feel like how the ugly stepsisters must have felt in Cinderella._


	3. Aww, Hells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Arnold accidentally stumbled upon something he wasn't meant to.

Scales. Scales. I have heard scales so many times in the last fifteen minutes that I could even start singing scales, and that's saying something. Do, a deer, a female deer.

"Have you got all the audition sheets?"

I shook my head to break from my thoughts, shuffling the large stack of sheets already in my lap. "I think so. Last check I had 65, and I've counted no more than that here – well, besides us and Mr. Simmons," I clarified, rifling through the stack of papers in my lap one more time. Mr. Simmons had warned me that audition day would be a long day, and as I surveyed all the faces sitting out in the seats, I had no doubt it was indeed going to be looooong. As we'd finished clearing off the stage and dusting off the piano last night, Helga had given me a brief rundown. It was going to be listening to everyone sing, having them read a bit, dance, and then we'd stay and confer over our favorites with Mr. Simmons. I'd be the one sending out the email to those who made the cut, and I'd be the one sending out the depressing email of "Guess who gets to be in chorus? You, you lucky dog, you."

"Not bad," she mused, leaning to peer out around the curtain as I had to size up the crowd. "We should be able to have a nice group to pick from. Awesome."

I chuckled, shaking my head at her excitement. "Sure thing. So can we start this? It's almost 3:30 and I've got a feeling this is going to take a little bit of time."

"Oh. Right! Well go tell people to get seated while I go to our spots. Mush!" she instructed, giving me a swift push, which caused me to stumbled awkwardly onto the stage. I yelped as I tried to catch my balance, barely managing to get myself upright as I hit center stage. I smiled shakily, meeting all the expectant eyes that were boring into me. I blinked against the lights, bringing up a hand to shield my eyes for a moment.

"So….hey!" I greeted, shuffling the papers in my hands. "Welcome to auditions for My Fair Lady. We'll just being going through a series of….auditions? So when your name is called, just come forward and tell us what you're singing and…okay, let's get this started!" I quickly jumped down from the stage and took my seat next to Helga, who was shaking with laughter. I shot her a dark look before dumping the papers on the table in front of her. "You could have told me I was making the speech."

"Then it wouldn't have been as fun," she explained, picking up the sheet on the top of the stack. "Alright, let's start with…Ashley Schultz?"

I sighed, settling back down into my seat, clipboard poised. Might as well get comfortable….

Auditions dragged on for close to three hours, and I was relieved as Mr. Simmons gave the closing speech and waved everyone out the door with a, "And remember! There are no small parts, only small actors, and we'll find a special role for each and every special person we can!"

Helga snorted beside me, looking over to glance at my clipboard chart. I had to stop myself from sliding my hand over it to block her view, reminding myself we were supposed to be working as a team.

"So, I thought it went well! There are so many wonderful talents this year!" Mr. Simmons commented as he took a seat in a folding chair across the table from us.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. So I'm thinking that we should go ahead and agree that-" she lifted up a page on her clipboard, "that no one was really up to par to be Eliza."

"Well what about Lila?" I asked, skimming my own notes. "Or Rhonda. Rhonda...Rhonda has the perfect attitude, really." Which was true; she was the queen of attitude and certainly was no exception during her audition.

Mr. Simmons nodded thoughtfully. "I think Rhonda would be a great choice."

Helga snorted as if she wanted to argue, but instead offered up, "Fine. Rhonda can be my Eliza if Eugene can be Henry."

I thought she must be kidding, but the look on her face was the opposite.

"Really?" I asked, somewhat surprised. Not the Eugene hadn't done awesome. All his work had paid off, and he'd manage to outgrow most of his clumsy attributes. He'd grown as well all had over the years; he was taller, hairier, and even slightly beefier. Mainly beefier due to his decision freshman use to use muscle strength as a way to offset his clumsiness –which, to be fair, was often caused by his weak limbs and lack of coordination. It had helped. But there were taller, hairier, beefier guys that had auditioned I was sure Helga would advocate for. "Sure. I'm all for Eugene. He works hard. I think he'll do great!"

Mr. Simmons nodded in agreement, and we continued down the list. Sheena, Nadine, Lila, Sid, and Stinky were among those on the list I knew best, and we agreed to send out the call-back information later that night. I wasn't sure what for since we were pretty positive who we wanted to do what, but I guess the fuzzy roles were really what we needed to nail down.

As I gathered up my bag and notebook off the floor, I was actually starting to feel excited over this whole thing. We'd drafted out the tentative set last week as well and- I don't know- it sort of felt nice to feel like my opinions actually meant something. I offered up opinions and ideas to people all the time, but it was very rarely people asked for them except as a last resort – which was a bit frustrating the older I got. I grinned to myself, helping Mr. Simmons clean up the remaining trash left behind as Helga went to go turn the lights out for the night. We bid out farewells and headed out to the rapidly darkening world outside. I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and pulled out my phone to scan to see if there were only calls from my grandparents for errands before I got home. There was nothing but a text from Gerald asking how things had gone, and I reminded myself to respond once I got home. I looked up, taking a deep breath before starting my walk home. My truck was out of commission with a dead battery I had yet to take care of, but I didn't mind walking when the weather was nice.

"What are you gaping at?" Helga asked offhandedly as she stepped out from the door, checking behind her to make sure it was firmly locked.

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself," she said with a grin, pushing back her choppy bangs from her eyes. "Later." She gave a half way before starting off down the sidewalk, and I swear she was humming under her breath.

"You're not walking home alone are you?" I asked curiously, stumbling a bit as I caught up to her.

She looked at me in confusion, then looked around as if to prove a point. "Well, would you look at that. Yeah, It seems I was. What of it?"

"It's almost dark! Why don't I walk you?" I inquired, pushing some of the hair back from my face. I needed a haircut.

She looked at me curiously, then shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat, football head."

I grinned, having long since gotten over her choice of nicknames. "So… you and Eugene, huh?" I tried to sound offhanded, looking up at the sky. No point in trying to be nonchalant.

"What about Eugene and me?" Helga scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Well you guys spend so much time together, and you were certainly adamant," I teased, yelping as she dealt a swift blow to my arm.

"Oh shut up! You know as well as I that he's been doing shows for years, ever since elementary school. He's really good, but no one was willing to give him a chance the past few years. I've watched him grow, and he works hard." She scuffed her foot on the sidewalk. "I don't know. I think he's deserved it, and it's his last year. I know he wants to do theatre, and I wanted to give him something to put on his audition forms. And he can do this!" She said the last part quietly, but fiercely, with a determined look. I felt that even if Eugene wasn't great to start, she wouldn't let him go onstage without being anything less than perfect. I smiled, chuckling.

"He'll do great. It was nice thing, giving him a chance. I'm sure he'll be awesome."

She grinned at me, rolling her eyes when it seemed like she was starting to care too much. "Yeah yeah, whatever. I can be nice."

"When it suits you."

"Some people just take it for granted," she retorted. "If I was nice all the time, like some people," she commented, pushing me in the arm, "then people wouldn't be appreciative when I am. I'm nice in secret."

"More flies with honey," I said wisely, glancing across the street as we scuttled across.

"You know that phrase is just from when Egyptians covered slaves in honey so they would attract the flies away from them. It was really a bitch move at heart," she laughed as we come to stop in front of her house. It was eerily quiet, and I watched her previously cheery demeanor deflate slightly. "Anyway, thanks for walking me home. I'm a big girl though; you don't have to worry about me. No one else does."

I opened my mouth to reply, but she had already closed the door behind her. I sighed, shaking my head as I headed back toward the boarding house. I remembered I had her number in my phone, and I quickly skimmed through to find the previous text she had sent about theatre duties. Our texts up until this point had just been purely show related, nothing friendly. I was almost hesitant to send anything, but I choked down my hesitation and sent a quick, "Well, even if no one else worries, I do. How else am I supposed to know what to do for the show without your constant instructions?" I added the second line as a comedic buffer, unsure as to how she would take it. I counted to the three and hit send, shoving the phone in my pocket as though it had morphed into a poisonous creature. No need to see the answer immediately.

I made it back to the boarding house just as grandma was herding everyone out the kitchen. I gave a hasty apology about my lateness, but she shook her head and handed me a plate she had set aside and asked me to give Eleanor her regards as I headed up the stairs.

Who the heck was Eleanor?

I shook my head, pulling up my computer to do a bit of internet skimming before typing up the call-back email. I opened my messenger and was immediately greeted with an aggressive ping from internet ladyfriend….thing.

_Hells-and-bells: I have an emergency!_

_Lordofthespies: Should I call 911?_

_Hells-and-bells: No, a boy emergency._

_Lordofthespies: Ah_

_Hells-and-bells: All you have to say is 'ah?'_

_Lordofthespies: …Ah-hah?_

_Hells-and-bells: Whatever. I don't have to tell you._

_Lordofthespies: No, tell me! I wanna know._

(No, not really. I did not care about her other boy. Bahhumbug)

_Hells-and-bells: Okay, so, remember how I told you that we don't really talk much?_

_Lordofthespies: yep, I remember._

(because he's a louse. A no good louse that takes you for granted)

_Hells-and-bells: Okay! Well, we actually got to spend a lot of time together today. He sent me a text – we never casual text – and I'm not sure how to respond and I'm here staring at it for like an hour, and I have no idea how to respond. Like, damn shit bitch face, I'm not sure which way I want it to go, ya know?_

_Lordofthespies: So you want me to beta your texts?_

_Hells-and-bells:…you know what a beta is?_

_Lordofthespies: a fish. It's a fish._

_Hells-and-bells: Haha, real funny, you suck ass. But yes, essentially I'd like a guy's opinion on what he meant and how to respond._

_Lordofthespies: Sure. What was the text?_

_Hells-and-bells: hold on, let me copy it._

_Hells-and-bells: "Well, even if no one else worries, I do. How else am I supposed to know what to do for the show without your constant instructions?"_

_I heard the fork I was using hit the floor, but I didn't feel it slip from my fingers. I couldn't feel anything. Oh. My. God._

_Hells-and-bells: Are you there?_


	4. Enter Henry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Arnold has a moral dilemma -Awww, not another moral dilemma!

"Geraaaaaallld," I hissed, dealing him a sharp kick to the leg under the table. I did a quick scan of the cafeteria, but she was nowhere to be seen. I felt that even mentioning her name was like summoning Beetlejuice. She'd pop out from under the table and beat the snot out of me. I nervously directed my attention back to Gerald, who, to his credit, was now biting his lip to keep his laughter under control. "This isn't funny!"

"Oh come on, yes it is! Do you not smell the ironic comedy gold oozing from this revelation? Boy meets girl, girl hates boy, boy harbors understandable distaste for the girl," he explained, waving his hand as he spoke. "Boy meets girl online, girl and boy form a thing that's not really a thing online, boy find out girl he harbors distaste for is actually the online girl. Oh no, what will he do? Tune in Friday at 8."

I glared as he gave me an ear to ear grin, looking pretty pleased with himself. I wanted to find some sort of hole I could punch in his explanation, but he was pretty much right. "I'll just….unfollow her and delete my messenger. Now that I know, it feels like I'm spying on her life." I poked at my pizza, sighing heavily.

"No, man, come on! Don't you see what you have going for you here?"

I blinked,confused. "I don't follow."

"Okay, take that play you're helping with."

"Stage Managing."

"Whataever. It's 'My Fair Lady,' right? So isn't the basic premise of that show that the guy finds a rundown, undesirable girl and grooms her to be better? More likeable? You could do that to Helga! She's asking you dude advice – the dude she wants is you. She doesn't know it's you. You could basically groom her into your idea girl and she'd never know it was you!" He explained, rolling his eyes as if he was shocked that hadn't been my immediate first thought.

"Hey now, no! Henry and Eliza agreed, Eliza knew she was being conditioned. Helga-" quick look around "wouldn't know! That'd be wrong."

"Oh come on Arnold, how? She's asking the guy she knows online for advice for a guy she knows offline. In your case, it happens to be the same guy. She's knowingly asking for advice. She's agreeing. 'Cause she liiiikes you," he teased, shoving a forkful of potatoes in his mouth and trying to not look smug. Which on that end, he was failing horribly. He couldn't help but look so full of himself.

But I could see his point, as much as I didn't want to. The whole idea was making my stomach queasy. Sure Hells – I mean Helga- was asking me guy advice. And true, who knew what I liked in a girl more than myself? But still, it was wrong! "Oh come on, if she found out, she would murder me. I'd be part of the mystery meat and nobody would even notice," I rebutted, pushing my tray away as I envisioned the image of me sitting in a blobby pile of gravy. "it's…it's not moral!"

Gerald rolled his eyes at me once more before leaning on his elbows and giving me a serious look. "Arnold, seriously, how would she find out? You never would have found out if not the for the text. As long as you don't mention any of the online stuff, you're golden. It's not like you guys actually talk about that?"

"No,but-"

"Come on,man! Most guys would kill for this. Think of the possibilities. Think about it."

I didn't want to think about it anymore today. My head was spinning like a cyclone and I was still no closer to an answer. I knew what I should do, but that didn't stop how enticing the other option had become under Gerald's constant spiel. I glanced up from my notepad to find Helga sitting beside me vigorously smacking on her gum. I'd been hearing the pop in intervals. See, if I followed Gerald's advice, I could easily just comment that guys don't like smacking gum, and I wouldn't have to hear it. I could tell her braids were cute, and for all I knew she would start sporting braids. I could say bringing guys hamburgers was a great way- could I get her to give me food?

"Are you even listening to me? Hel-lo Football Head, wake up. It's time to start," she said, pushing me in the arm before heading onstage to address all the call-back kids. Maybe I could casually mention guys don't like to be called Football head.

I shook my head to try and clear that train of thinking one more. It was so weird watching her now, now that I knew so much about her I hadn't know before – well, at least not as openly. It was like I had suddenly read her diary, and they were like two different entities battling in my head. This was so confusing. I groaned as I slid down in the seat, grateful for the distraction once more. Callbacks went much quicker, and since we'd already established most of the cast the previous day, we departed early. I had the official cast list down in my backpack, ready to be typed and emailed. Fun stuff.

"See you on Monday Footballhead," I heard Helga muttered as she collided her shoulder with mine before heading out the door. I rubbed my shoulder, wincing. Also remember to tell her that I don't like being smashed in the shoulder. Ouch.

As I opened the door to the boarding house, the smell of food hit me like a wall. Not eating at lunch had taken its toll and I could feel my mouth watering. I quickly went and gathered my plate from my grandma (so lucky she saves me plates) and took my stairs two at a time. I quickly flipped on the tv before setting in at my computer desk, shoveling a wad of greenbeans into my mouth. Oh dear sweet heavens.

I started my computer back up, quickly pulling up my email. If I went quick-

_Hells-and-bells: Hey,what happened last night? You were supposed to advise, and here I am – advised less?_

I gulped, trying not to choke as I quickly sifted through the options. Option a)say the power went out. She won't know. Option B) Explain that you know who she is. Nip it in the bud. Option C)Ignore it. Or, Option D) Gerald's plan. Play cool, and advise in my best interest. I took a deep breath, fingers hovering. Oh, what the heck.

_Lordofthespies: Sorry, had some computer troubles. Back online. How'd it go?_

_Hells-and-bells: um, it didn't. I never responded and I was too nervous to say anything today._

Dangit, this was so weird. How was I to know she was nervous? I just thought she was really focused and was enjoying her gum. I groaned, trying to not let my knowledge of the day cloud the…non-knowledge online me…didn't…have?

_Lordofthespies: Sorry… you could maybe just text back? Something simple. Maybe just a thanks? Thank yous are really appreciated._

_Hells-and-bells: Seriously? A thank you? That's what you'd want?_

_Lordofthespies: Well, yeah. It's nice to know your efforts are being appreciated._

A few moments later I felt my phone buzz in pocket. I hesitated, unsure over whether or not I should check it. If it was a text from Helga thanking me, then it was officially confirmed-no just saying it was a coincidence. If it wasn't from her, well, then I don't know what that meant. I just knew the one flip side. I took a deep breath, slowly unlocking my phone screen. Text. Helga. I could feel my heart speed up, nervousness manifesting in sweating fingers. Why was I so nervous? Because I knew this was wrong? Because officially confirming the Helga theory inadvertently meant I had some sort of thing for Helga?

I opened it, skimming the message quickly. "Hey, sorry for the late response. I wasn't sure what to say yesterday, but I guess a thank you is what I meant. So, yeah, thanks for the text."

I allowed myself a glance at the computer screen, but she hadn't sent another message. It had just effectively done my first advice test, and in real time.

I haphazardly sifted through icons until I got to skype, quickly dialing Gerald since his icon showed he was online. He didn't answer the first call, but he answered my second.

"Dude, what's up?"

"She did it!"

"Who did what?" He asked, confused.

"Helga!" I blurted, quickly shoving my phone at the camera for proof. "When she messaged me about the text thing, I suggested she say thank you. Five seconds later, I have a text from Helga thanking me!"

"So it's official… You can totally get her to do whatever you want her to do to win you over."

"But….who says I wanna be wooed over by Helga Pataki?" I retorted, looking down.

"Oh shut up,you were already wooed by her online persona. You're already halfway there. And if that doesn't work, at least she'll be tolerable."

"I don't think I can do this," I wailed. "it's making me nervous! I feel like a double agent. "

"So you're not gonna text back?"

"Well…I should say welcome," I muttered, poking at my macaroni.

"You're already in too deep, you have gravy on your face."


	5. Just You Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I wasn't crying!"
> 
> "So, just leaking then?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry for choppy update schedule...Once summer sets in,I will be able to actually have more free time... Also, this is a bit of a slowish chapter, which i'm sorry about. Just wanted to finish setting the scene so we can get into the actually fun stuff... or not fun. I have a lot of chapters done, it's just posting them up. Sorryyyy,

The more I thought it over, the more disgusting the whole idea seemed to become. I groaned as I rolled over to face the wall, kicking the covers down to the foot of the bed. Thinking about things late at night did nothing but exasperate the problem in my head. There was no way from me to pretend that what I was even considering was, well, just downright low. How would I feel if this was reversed? How would I feel if Helga was reading all my personal thoughts on my blog and using me to turn me into something I wasn't?

"But I'm not, right? She's already posted all this stuff online, which means she obviously expects people to read it!" I said out loud, the words sounding loud in my quiet room.

But it was meant for people that didn't know her-otherwise she would have posted her name, and maybe even a picture and told everyone, "Hi! I'm Helga G. Pataki and this blog is about my life and Arnold Shortman, who is a jerk for even considering doing this to me!" 

I groaned once, pushing myself from the bed and wrangling myself into a pair of sweatpants and a battered green sleeveless shirt I used for baseball practice. It was barely hanging on, but it was comfortable. I needed things to be comfortable. My jacket was on the couch, and after lacing up my shoes, I took the steps two at a time and bounded down the stairs, glancing at the clock that read 3 a.m. with a glaring certainty as if to ask, 'Where are you going Arnold?' I shook my head, slipping out the door and grabbing my keys from the holding nearby.

The air outside was still chilly, as early February tends to be. I took a moment to shake into my jacket before heading off down the sidewalk at a brisk pace. I wasn't sure where I was going, but anything seemed better than my room. There wasn't enough there to be distracting, leaving too much free time to ponder what a crappy person I was. I brushed my hair from my eyes, making a mental note that it was gonna need a cut once the warm weather began to creep in. 

I walked mostly in aimless squares for a bit, finally decided to duck into a small 24 hour convenient store and purchase a large cup of watery hot cocoa. It certainly wasn't the most decadent choice, but there was a certain warmth that come from things that were nostalgic. I slid my money onto the counter and had a quick conversation consisting of just nods and waves with young man at the desk before heading back out. I wrapped my fingers around the cup, enjoying the warmth it brought to my mostly chilled fingers. Taking a sip felt even better. Liquid chocolate is definitely about a number 2 on the comfort scale. 

I found myself nearing the park, and I decided to go ahead and follow the path inside, keeping an eye an out for the bench I knew was nearby. It didn't take long to spot it, and I realized it wasn't vacant. I could hear the faint sounds of little gasps that accompanied crying. Uh oh. I probably should have left whoever it was to cry in private, but another part of me nagged that maybe someone was hurt and I should definitely check. One sip more before making the resolve to keep going, and I began to make out the form as I got closer, the soft glow from the scattered lights reflecting off familiar blonde hair. I stopped almost immediately, one foot still hovering before the next step. I sent a dark look at the sky, wondering why fate had chosen this exact moment I was trying to focus on anything but Helga. Nonetheless, I reminded myself that if she was upset, I still needed to help her. After all, she was my friend – in a matter of speaking. 

"Um, you okay?" I asked gently, stopping as I neared the bench. She wrenched her head out of her hands and looked at me with wide, shocked eyes before hastily rubbing her eyes across her arm. 

"I'm fine! What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in bed by now, football head?" she snapped, her voice tripping over the words. 

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" I replied with a sigh, not really in the mood for the resistance. I sat down on the other end of the bench, resting my elbows on my knees as I leaned forward, hands around my cup. "Is everything okay? I heard crying…" 

"I wasn't crying!" 

I nodded my head at the tears she hadn't managed to wipe off. "So, just leaking then?" 

A small laugh escaped as she pressed her palms against her eyes to rub the rest away. "Yeah, exactly." 

As I watched her trying to quickly scrub away any evidence of her emotions, I took a deep breath. She was a person, with feelings and problems, and I couldn't allow myself to willing become another one. She was human. She was Helga, but still human. Mostly. I looked down at the cup in my hands before extending out to her. "I have found that hot cocoa can be rather comforting in times of distress," I offered. "There's maybe about a little over a half left in it. You can have it, if you like. It's still really warm and I promise I don't have cooties," I added, hoping the touch of humor might cheer her up. 

She looked over and eyed the cup, then my face. "Well what were you trying to run away from, then?" 

I blinked, the immediate response of 'you' getting caught in my throat. "Girl problems," I responded instead, wanting to still be truthful without hurting her feelings. "I think… I almost let myself do something really, really stupid," I muttered, pulling my hand away from the cup as her fingers swapped placed with mine. 

She eyed me curiously from behind hair that had escaped from one of the messiest braids I had seen in existence. "Oh really? Like how stupid?" she asked, resting her chin on the lip of the cup. 

I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of this conversation. "Okay, so, hypothetically. Let's say you found out a way to make someone do almost exactly what you wanted them to do. Well,not make,they'd be doing it willingly. But they wouldn't know you were doing it. Would you?" I realized I had a death grip on my sweatpants, and quickly released them. 

"So, if I had the opportunity to manipulate someone into doing what I wanted with almost no repercussions? Basically?" 

"Yeah…" 

"What's my relationship to this person?" 

"Um…" I peeked over. "It's just a very complicated one." 

"Hmm… it depends, I guess. If it was a close friend, probably not. I'm pretty open, I'd just talk to them face to face. But, if it was someone I felt needed an extra push in the right direction, I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't take a tiny test spin with that." She grinned as she sipped cocoa. "I mean, if you're not forcing anything on the person. They are voluntarily going to do it. Why do you ask?" 

"Ah…I was just… breaking down the basic plot of the play. Wondering if you'd do something like that." 

"Oh!" She nodded, understanding. "Well in the case of Henry and Eliza, I think it's different. She knows what he's doing on their working on it together. If he was pulling strings behind the scenes, I think she'd despise him. She'd orchestrate his death, all prim and proper." She took another sip of the cup, giving it a now shake to prove it's emptiness. She stood, tossing it into a nearby trashcan. 

The whole conversation had left me with a chill, and I stood up as well, doing a jump to get my blood moving. "So you okay? You wanna talk about why you were upset?" 

"Because sometimes things just don't work out," she said after a moment, tugging gently at the loose hair around her face. "But such is life. See at practice on Friday, Football head." She waved, starting to walk off. She paused suddenly and spun back around as she added, "Oh. And, Thanks. Thank you for the cocoa…and for caring, I guess." She then took off at a sprint, and I could make out her form as she meshed into the darkness. 

I grinned. She had remembered to say thank you. 

Not sleeping was a bad idea,which I discovered the next morning as fumbled with the lock as I tried to not yawn. I almost choked on it as a heavy hand slapped my shoulder. 

"Morning,Romeo," Gerald teased from beside me as effortlessly spun his lock. 

My brain had just managed to get mine undone, and I looked at him in confusion as I sifted through my books. "Excuse me?" 

"Oh come on. So you and Helga had a 3 a.m. park rendezvous complete with hot cocoa?" 

I blinked again, confused. I hadn't sent him anything, had I? Just gone home and gone to bed. "Huh?" 

"There was a blog update. Surprised you didn't check it. After all, you were a religious follower." 

I felt my cheeks grow hot, hiding my face behind the locker door. "It wasn't anything like that," I grumbled, feeling embarrassed. I hadn't realized she would write about it. Not that anyone but Gerald knew the truth of it, but the idea that people were reading stories about me made me uncomfortable. 

"Then what was it like?" he asked innocently. "You send her an instant message to go wait at the park, hmmm?" 

"I decided I don't want to go through with this," I replied, shrugging my backpack back over my shoulder. "It's wrong. I can't do it. It's a double life." 

"I know, which is why I have so graciously decided to take over your online persona and play internet you. I can give instructions and hints, and you'll just reap the benefits. This way, you really have no idea what's being said. You have no knowledge of what I'm doing. If things go wrong, I'll take the blame, because seriously? What do I lose from Helga hating me? And if this does work out, you and her can be a little something-something." 

I pushed him away as he began to make exaggerated kissing faces beside me, but I had to admit this idea seemed,well, more something I could get onboard with. If Gerald was giving her the information, then it was just as if she was asking him real life. That made so much more sense. I nodded. "Yeah, okay, I can see how that could work," I heard myself saying, ending it with a yawn. 

"When do you see her again?" 

"Friday? We have a rehearsal." 

He nodded, and we both went to our desks as the bell began to ring. In my lightheaded state, I wasn't sure if the decision I had just made was really good or something really stupid. Either way, come Friday, I would have to deal with repercussions. And even Helga had said she do it too, right? I also felt like there was something else she had said, too, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it just yet. 


	6. On the Street Where You Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Arnold tried to hard because he's Arnold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'm having fun writing and trying to channel my clueless, somewhat over eager teenage 's been fun. Though a bit weird, as I try to and set up all my conflicting subplots. Sorry if this story is a bit below par right now, but I'm getting there slowly. And as always, thanks for reading! You guys are awesome!

The only thing keeping me from a long weekend hunkering down in my bedroom eating chips and yahoo as I binged on video games was the agonizing rehearsal set to start in thirty minutes. I really should be inside by now, helping Helga with whatever stage manager duties I was supposed to be doing. I don't know. But the idea of her waiting for me on the other side of the door was a daunting idea, and I help back, pacing by the door as I chewed my fingernails down to ragged remains.

See, Gerald had casually reminded me over lunch that I had given him permission to be the forerunner to my online self, making him my accomplice and lead advice giver to Helga. I had no recollection of giving him permission to do this, but he casually reminded me of the exact time and place I had said so. (Wednesday morning at 7:56, outside the Math room, so he says.) The problem here is that Wednesday is a complete blur to me, and when I had asked how he managed to even log into my account, he produced a scrap of paper with my scribbled scrawl on it that dictated my info. He had then shrugged and reminded me that I often used the same password for almost everything, and he would have gotten in anyway.

Which is all fine and dandy that he can log in, but apparently he already told her something to do to commence in the 'wooing' and I have no idea what this means. He could be using this as a means to humiliate her, which is awful, but I can't exactly run in and tell her not to follow advice off the internet without totally blowing the fact that I know a large majority of her secrets. Oh crap. Crap crap crap-

"Hey Arnold! You okay?"

"Daaa hey Eugene!" I squeaked, tensing up and shoving my hands in my pockets. He gave me a worried look, peering behind me to the door.

"You okay? Is the door locked or something?" He quickly jerked his wrist up to glance at his watch. "I'm not late, am I? I can't be late on the first day!"

"No, no, you're fine!" I assured him. "The doors open, I was just… thinking about some show stuff."

"Oh!" he perked up, sighing in relief. "That's good. I was almost worried for a second. I'd hate to do anything to make you guys regret picking me!" he gushed, pushing the door open and holding it for me, giving me no choice but to follow along. "I'm really excited, and I just want to thank you guys so much for considering me! I mean, just giving me the chance!"

"Thank Helga," I said, her name rolling off my tongue with a strange feel. "She really has faith in you."

"She does?" His face lit up at the thought, a smile taking over his face. "Wow."

"Yo football head, I've sent you like four texts since school got out. Do you not know how to check you phone?"

Her voice grated against my ears, my mind trying to shift back to school Helga. I cringed. "My phone is still on silent," I sighed, my hands tightening around my backpack strap. I was just waiting for whatever display Gerald had arranged.

"Well you need to check these things," she shot back as she rolled her eyes, her hands placed firmly on her hips. "I need you to keep up with my attendance for me, and I'm going to need you to let Sheena down into the costume room during read through. We need to go ahead and get an idea of what we have so we can start out fundraising for the rest."

"I don't have to sit through read through?" I asked as I placed my backpack on the floor by one of the seats in the front row. I sat down in the seat near the aisle, briefly glancing up to where she was situation herself to sit on the edge of the stage.

"No,not really. I mean, I already looked over the script yesterday and started blocking notes as well as started a prop list. I just have to get Mr. Simmons to look over all of that. So no, I don't need you for read through."

I guess I really shouldn't complain. At least I'd have something to do that allowed me to move around to pass the time. I shrugged out of my over shirt, figuring might as well go ahead and free my arms from the sleeves before having haul to clothes to wherever they needed to go. I wasn't sure if it'd a load of not, but better safe than sorry. I directed my attention back to Helga, who quickly looked off to the side, her cheeks pink.

"Do I need a key or something?" I asked, looking around to see if Sheena has shown up yet. We still had about fifteen minutes, but still.

"Yeah, it's on the bulletin board in the back, on a thumbtack. It's labelled," she instructed before swinging her legs back and standing on the stage. "Come on," she said with a huff after she noticed I wasn't moving.

"Well I didn't know you meant now," I muttered, grabbing the edge of the stage and hoisting myself up.

"Nice muscles you got there, Arnold," I heard Rhonda tease, and I immediately crossed my arms over my chest as a shield as I followed Helga backstage.

"Oh, just ignore her," she said with a look back at my face. "She just likes to make people uncomfortable, as I'm sure you know."

Talk about pout and kettle, I thought, though I kept it to myself. "I guess so."

"What, you don't want to be called attractive?" she teased in a singsong voice as we approached the board, and I could feel my cheeks starting to grow warm. I was suddenly aware of just the two of us in this back corner, and I could feel my stomach knotting in anticipation of whatever she had in store from Gerald.

"Oh lay off," I replied, attempting to keep my voice light. "It's weird."

"Well some people don't get to have that luxury." She held out the key to me, the key ring between her thumb and forefinger. "Sheena knows where the room is, so she'll show you one she's here. Make sure you get attendance before she leaves."

And with that final instruction, she skirted back around me and back towards the stage without any fuss or show. Strangely, I was a little disappointed at the lack of attitude change toward me, but a small part of my mind reminded me that that line of thinking was rather vain, and that I shouldn't really be expecting anything. After all, she may have told Gerald she didn't want to have anything to do with me after all. I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding before shoving the key in my pants pocket following her back onstage. I was about to jump back down and take my seat as Sheena darted over and held out a clipboard. "Here, this has the attendance chart. Sorry, but I don't want to see her jump on you over it."

I grinned appreciatively. "Thanks, really."

She waved a hand at me, shaking her head. "Don't mention it. After you check everyone off and get every gets a script, I'll show you the costume room."

My grin faltered. "Wait, I have to check out scripts? How does that work?"

"Oh, it's super easy. Did Helga not tell you?" We both looked over to find Helga chewing out a freshman for showing up with just two minutes to spare.

"I think she got distracted," I said with a shrug.

"Oh. Well I'm sure Mr. Simmons will take care of most of it, since it does involve finances, so to speak. He'll help you!" She pointed to where he was just not taking a seat with a large box sitting beside him. I nodded thanks before heading over to where he was, settling down in the seat beside him.

It didn't take long before the scripts were handed out, attendance was taken, and Helga had everyone seated and starting their read through. I quickly sneaked out with Sheena (well, not technically sneaking) and followed her down a small hall to the costume room.

"Mainly I just want to grab any sort of period pieces that might work, and we'll go ahead and stash them in dressing rooms. I can alter them later, after doing fittings and getting the budget together," she explained as I handed over the key. She pushed the door open and clicked on a light, illuminating rows and rows of costumes. My mouth dropped.

"Where did all this come from?" I inquired, poking at a row of poufy dresses.

"Mostly donations and some purchased for specific shows with fundraising. But definitely most come from donations."

I simply nodded, my arms out and poised to be a human clothes rack as she began to pile things in my arms.

"So, you enjoying drama so far?"

"Well, from the short amount of time I've been here, it's been…interesting," I admitted, blowing a tuft of hair from my forehead. "Is it weird of me to ask how Helga's the senior director?"

Sheena laughed as she sifted through the racks. "Well, she's a tough cookie, that's for sure. But she's really dedicated to whatever she decides to do. I've been working on the costumes since I was a freshman, and Helga's been here since I was. She usually does stagehand stuff. I think she's secretly a closet romantic, and most musicals are romances. I've seen her backstage sometimes, humming along with a dreamy look. I think she's mushy, and she likes the stories. It's basically being able to still play pretend and no one can really make fun of you for it. Well, I mean they can, but you know what I mean," she babbled, continuing to load me up to it felt like my arms were going to snap under the pressure of all the fabric.

We headed backstage to the dressing rooms and I heaved a sigh of relief as she began to unload me.

"So one more question about Helga." I tried to act nonchalant as I formulated my question. I sort of had a good idea on the answer, but wanted another perspective. "You say you think she does this because of the whole play pretend thing. But do the other guys, well, do they actually include her? Or is she sort of doing this as a loner?"

Sheena seemed to think it over as she finished hanging up outfits. "Now that you mention it, not really. She's really off putting to underclassmen, so most don't really try to make friends with her. And most of the seniors obviously went to school with her and just know how she is. So, no. I think she's just sort of here on her own." She shrugged, handing the key back to me. "I'm going to listen to the rest of the read through. You coming?"

I nodded. "Yeah, be out in a sec." I turned back to the outfits behind me, and as I allowed my brain to actually let the writings of internet Helga mingle into the Helga that had been a little snappy with me earlier, and idea started to form in my mind. A new plan, so to speak. I quickly hug the key back up on the bulletin board before slipping out to take a seat out front.

As rehearsal ended and everyone began to head out, I exhaled a sigh of relief. Finally. The weekend, which meant freedom. Also chores, but mostly freedom. I gathered up my backpack, slinging it over my arm with a grunt.

"Don't hurt yourself, big guy."

"Trust me, books are the least of my worries," I laughed, turning to give Helga a smile. She looked confused for a moment, but gave a confused smile in response.

"Okay, but why are we smiling?"

"Because there's a bright side to everything," I affirmed.

"You're being kinda weird," she responded, giving me a worried look as she gathered up her own bags.

"Naah, not really. Hey, see you on Monday?"

Her face looked like it was trying to register whether the world had been tipped over and she'd missed the memo. "Of course, it's the first day of blocking. You have to be here. So yeah, I'll see you around?" It was obviously meant as a statement, but her voice had the lilt of a question as she adjusted her jacket.

"Are you walking home?" I pushed the door open for her, and she slipped under the arch of my arm, checking to make sure the door locked as it slammed behind us.

"I was thinking I'd fly home, but weathers just not wanting to be forgiving," she teased, fishing a tattered beanie from her bag and tugging it down over her hair. "Aren't you cold?" She asked, taking in my bare arms.

I held them out, then shrugged. "Eh, not so much. Not right now anyway."

She shrugged, starting to head down the sidewalk. I took a few big steps to close the gap, then slowed myself to keep pace. She stopped as abruptly as I had started. "Okay, what's up with you today? You just seem really clingy for no reason." She pursed her lips, scanning my face intently.

"Sorry," I stammered, "I just thought you'd like a walk home."

She took a step forward hesitantly, then nodded. "Okay, but it still stands that you're kind of freaking me out."

"Let it stand that I have taken that into consideration, and it's fully noted." I adjusted my bag, and we walked in silence down the sidewalk. The formulation of my new plan was going to need a little tweaking, I told myself. Just trying to become instant friends in real life wasn't going to work as smoothly as I thought. Mainly because she didn't have this built on the internet basis I had. Grah, this was confusing.

But just maybe this didn't have to be about things working just for me. (not that they were, she could always choose to reject his advice) But I could use this as a way to do a good deed type thing. I already knew lots of her interests and likes and dislikes. I could use that information to actually do nice things for her. And maybe that might help her loosen up a bit, not be so tense.

I blinked, surprised that we'd already reached her house.

"Thanks for the walk, I think," she laughed, heading up the stairs.

"Not a problem," I said, shrugging.

"Oh, um, and hey. I meant to ask you earlier, but totally forgot. Do you want this?" She dug around in her bag and produced a somewhat bent, but new sketchbook." I blinked. "I know you like to draw, and I figured you could, you know, use it to work on set design. Nothing fancy smancy, just stuff for the show."

"For the show?" I clarified, and her cheeks tinted pink as she brandished it once more.

"Totally. I just…didn't need it."

"Well then, yeah. Thanks," I said, awkwardly accepting it. She disappeared into the front door a moment later, leaving me turning the sketchbook over in my hands. Okay, so the firs implementation of his advice had been to give me a gift then?

So I guess a gift warranted a gift in return, then.


End file.
